


The Power of Darkness

by grarrl



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Slash, sterek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-08
Updated: 2013-01-08
Packaged: 2017-11-24 03:50:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/630072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grarrl/pseuds/grarrl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Derek meets Stiles during the full moon and loses control of himself due to Stiles’ umm…intoxicating scent…</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I rated it Mature for the 2nd chapter, just to let you know :) Would love to hear your thoughts on my story :)

**_The Power of Darkness_ **

***

“Hello? Is anyone here?” called Stiles Stilinski, stepping out of his battered Jeep and peering at the ruins of the house before him, its humped outline like a sleeping giant against the night sky.

“Derek? Dereeeeeeeeeek??? Are you here?”

Getting no answer, Stiles shrugged and climbed the stairs to the front of the house, talking all the while.

“Hey, Derek! Here, wolfie, wolfie wolf! I need your help. Actually, Scott does. He’s still not sure he can control himself during the full moon tonight, and he didn’t want to take any chances. I told him he’d be fine…I mean he has Allison after all, but you know Scott. He’s freaking out and wanted me to ask you what the best way is to restrain a werewolf…”

The front door swung silently open at his touch and Stiles walked in, voice trailing off, trying not to feel nervous, pretending the alpha wolf didn’t still scare him, even if just a little.

He heard a sound coming from the left and ducked sideways, noting how the ruined house didn’t look quite so bad in the patchy moonlight.

“Hello? Anyone here? Derek? You here?” he said as he stepped into what had once been the living room, now a mess of broken furniture, ashes, and dust.

“What are you doing here, Stiles?” said Derek from behind him and Stiles swung around, barely stifling a startled yelp.

“Geez, you almost gave me a heart attack!” he said.

But Derek stepped suddenly back with a small gasp, averting his face and looking as though he was trying not to breathe. “Oh god,” he groaned. “Get out of here!”

“Oh, real nice. Is this the way you treat all your guests? No wonder no one comes to visit you,” Stiles replied, stepping forward.

“Stiles, stop! Stay back!” said Derek in something close to panic, backing into a corner with his arm across his nose.

“Why? You’re not gonna go all wolfy on me, are you Mr. Sourwolf? I mean, I thought you were the big bad Alpha now, all in control and everything,” said Stiles, walking closer with a teasingly sarcastic smirk. “You know, I think I kinda like this. You helplessly cowering with me standing over you, for once. We should do this more often.”

“You idiot! Get out of here!” said Derek, hunkering down into the corner, trembling.

“Oh, come on, now Derek. We both know that you wouldn’t hurt me. I mean, I saved your life, like twice already, remember? Derek? Derek?!”

As the rays of the full moon shone suddenly through the window and onto Derek’s huddled form, he stiffened and raised his head, eyes blazing red and fangs bared in a soundless snarl.

“Whoa, now, Mister! Calm down. Geez, what’s with you? Tryna scare me, ehh? Well, it won’t work. I know you can control yourself even during the full moon.”

“N-not when you’re around,” growled Derek through gritted teeth. “Your smell…it-it’s intoxicating.”

“Excuse me?” said Stiles, raising an arm and sniffing himself. “I just showered this morning…or was that yesterday…? Anyway, I do _not_ smell.”

“Stiles, just shut up and get the hell out of here before I end up doing something we both regret,” growled Derek.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?” said Stiles tauntingly now, gaining courage by the fact that Derek was still able to talk and so was obviously still in control. He didn’t quite know why, but he extracted an almost visceral pleasure from baiting the hulky werewolf in this way, testing and pushing at the boundaries Derek had drawn so closely about himself.

As Stiles stepped forward, Derek’s nostrils flared wide and he shuddered, a long, drawn-out, bone-deep shudder that went from the tips of his toes to the roots of his hair.

“Like this,” he muttered in a guttural whisper before he lunged forward suddenly, grabbing Stiles and crashing to the ground, their lips meeting in a scorching kiss.

“WHA-mmmmm” said Stiles as Derek’s mouth collided with his own, heat and passion radiating off of him in near-smothering waves. At first, he resisted, trying to push the werewolf off him, but then that burning hot tongue licked at his lips, demanding entrance, even as the fangs receded into their more human shape. With a sigh, Stiles surrendered, gripping Derek closer and opening his mouth, allowing Derek entry, realizing that this, this was exactly what he’d wanted ever since he’d set eyes on the hunky werewolf, that it was the reason why he taunted him so carelessly and pushed him so perilously close to the edge of oblivion.

They kissed, long and deep, hands roaming over one another’s bodies hungrily, feeling whole in a way neither had ever felt before as their lips melted together, breath mingling, the only sound their muffled grunts in the still air.

            The darkness around them seemed to become a living, breathing entity, feeding off their combined lust and need and channeling more into them, the moonlight bathing their bodies in cool, silvery light as their limbs entwined and lips locked.

Derek growled deep in his throat and turned over to lie on his back with Stiles on top of him, kissing deeply, passionately. His eyes still glowed red in the darkness, smoldering and irresistible.

Stiles moaned, feeling the pull of the darkness, the raw power and sensuality that was Derek drawing at his soul, his center, the very core of his being and surrendering himself willingly to the power of that darkness, submerging himself in the heat and smell and feel and taste of Derek as their tongues dueled in a battle as old as time itself.

He felt himself responding as Derek fisted his hands in his hair, wrapping his own arms around Derek’s muscled body, loving the feel of that barely leashed power moving beneath his fingertips. He felt as though they were both rushing towards a cliff, unable to stop, not even _wanting_ to stop, clinging to each other with feverish passion that would burn them both if they weren’t careful. He arched his back, moaning even louder as Derek’s hands gripped his waist.

And then it was over as suddenly as it had started, the moon sliding behind the clouds at the same instant he realized just exactly what he was doing. Kissing _Derek Hale?!_ And being _ravished_ by him, no less?! What was he doing?!

Derek seemed to come to a similar realization at the same time and they both pulled hastily away from each other, straightening shirts and dusting off jeans, babbling excuses and apologies.

“I-I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have come here…” said Stiles at the same time that Derek said, “The full moon…it’s been known to make even us more experienced werewolves act unpredictably at the best of times…yeah, it was just the moon…”

The distance was back in Derek’s eyes, pushing away everyone from his heart, though his face was still flushed and his lips bright-red.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” said Stiles, trying not to feel the tiny sting of hurt in his heart and the voice that whispered so disappointedly, _So it was just the full moon and nothing else? Nothing more?_ “I-I guess I’d better get going now, I’m sure Scott’ll be able to handle it just fine,” he said shakily.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” said Derek, avoiding his eyes and turning away, chest rising and falling agitatedly.

Stiles turned to go, then paused on the threshold, biting his lip indecisively. It had just felt so _right,_ after all, that he couldn’t help it. The need, the want that had been awoken by the werewolf’s lips against his still hungered inside him, demanding release.

“You should go,” said Derek, broad chest and powerful shoulders silhouetted against the moonlight shining through the window, still facing away.

“Yeah…yeah, I was just leaving,” said Stiles, turning and walking out the ruined door, feeling unwanted tears prickle at the corners his eyes. _And for what?_ he thought angrily, wiping the tears away. _Something that never was, that you didn’t even know you wanted until five minutes ago? Get over it. You’ve been pining after Lydia for so long and you’ve never cried over her. Why cry over a werewolf?_

And yet, as he walked back to his Jeep, he felt the pull once again, tugging at his heart, felt the night air move and shift with the power of the darkness that was Derek, felt the onslaught of emotions that had sparked a wildfire in that ruin of a house for the span of a few brief minutes. Derek. _Derek, Derek, Derek,_ beat his heart. Derek, the hunky muscular wolf with hurt and pain hidden deep inside his eyes, the wolf whose body had fit so well with his, whose lips had made him feel complete in a way no one ever had before. But it was over, this thing that had never existed, that had never happened.

He sighed heavily, wiping again at the tears that just refused to stop. Wrestling open the dented door of his Jeep with half-blind eyes, he got in and drove away, just in time to miss seeing Derek come running out of the house, words on his lips that could have kept it all alive if he’d been able to say them, if he’d been able to break the stone walls around his heart to tell that beautiful boy that he thought he might actually _love_ him, that he hadn’t been able to get him out of his head since the day they’d met in that forest. That that smartass grin and that scent that was detergent and deodorant and boy and just so _Stiles_ had haunted him from the very first, that he yearned for his touch, for the feel of his lips again.

But he knew that the darkness within him, the wolf, the beast, the anger, and the hatred that had lived in his heart since the fire was far too much to ask anyone to deal with, let alone Stiles. Hyperactive, human, excitable, _perfect_ Stiles. That the darkness would hurt him and crush him and he knew he could never bear to let such a thing happen, to see the bright light of those beautiful brown eyes dimmed even for a second. It was hopeless and still he felt the boy’s presence in his heart, wrapping deeper around it, roots digging into the stone walls there and making them crumble and break for the first time in a long while and letting what little light there was back in.

_Can something truly be over when it has yet to begin?_


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the explicit part...lol...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I feel like this chapter was basically to get a slashy scene in lol. If I do continue, the next chapter will most likely be more angsty etc. like the first chapter was. Because, let's face it, these two as a couple have a lot to get through before they can really be happy, what with Derek's issues and whatnot. Hope you like it anyway :)

**_The Power of Darkness_ **

Chapter 2

“Hey! Stiles!”

Stiles turned around, startled. “Yeah?”

He was in the locker room, changing after PE. Most of the other guys had already changed and left, PE being their last class, so he’d thought he was alone. The only reason he was still there was because he’d been stalling. Because, the thing was, ever since the night of the full moon, at Derek’s house, he hadn’t felt quite himself. And Scott had just told him during Chemistry that Derek wanted to talk to them, _all_ of them.

“Oh…uhh…hey, Jackson,” he said. Then, stepping closer, “You know Derek wants us all to meet him at his house, right? I don’t know, some sort of important pack bulletin or something, heheh,” he said, laughing nervously.

Jackson had a determined look in his eyes and it was slightly frightening. Stiles hadn’t forgotten, after all, that he’d been the Kanima until just a couple months ago. And ever since he’d turned into a true werewolf, he’d been a little odd, a little more intense than he’d used to be.

“Yeah, I know.” Jackson brushed it off with an arrogant little wave of his hand. “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Okaaay. Listen, are you gonna keep staring at me like that the whole time? ‘Cause it’s really starting to creep me out.”

Jackson snorted. “Oh, please. You know you like it.”

“Sorry, Jackson, but you’re not exactly my type,” Stiles answered with a wink and then turned around to walk away, because, _really,_ it was just getting too awkward.

But Jackson was suddenly right there in front of him, far too close and backing him up against the lockers.

“I’m _everyone’s_ type,” he said huskily. “Anyway, Danny tells me you’ve been out of sorts lately. He thought maybe I could do something to fix that.”

He quirked his eyebrows suggestively and Stiles couldn’t help the hitch in his breathing. Jackson was hot, there was no denying that. And yet, he wasn’t Derek. And he knew that Derek was the only one he would ever want.

“Yeah, no thanks,” he began to say, but then Jackson was pressing against him and kissing him, _hard._

And suddenly, Stiles was back in the Hale house, kissing Derek amongst the ashes and dust, feeling the heat burn up inside him again.

And he kissed back, hands trailing over hard abs and a smooth chest, grasping Derek by the hair and pulling him in deeper.

But then he opened his eyes, and it was Jackson, only Jackson. And though his breathing was coming fast and hard and his heart was thundering in his chest, he pushed Jackson away.

“No! Just stop,” he said.

Jackson raised his hands defensively. “Hey man, I was just doing Danny a favor, I owed him. And don’t tell me you didn’t like it.” Smirking, he turned and walked away with his usual confident swagger, leaving Stiles breathless and sweaty and aroused and wanting Derek more than ever.

“ _So_ not what I needed right now,” he muttered to himself before hurrying out of the school and hopping in his Jeep.

Ten minutes later, he’d pulled up to the Hale house, sitting in his car and steeling himself for the encounter to come.

_Come on, Stiles. You can do this._

With a sigh, he got out and walked to the open front door.

Everyone else was already there. Scott, Jackson, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Lydia, even Allison. And Derek.

For a moment, their eyes met and Derek stopped talking in midsentence, Stiles’ heart jumping into his throat. But then it was over and Derek was turning away to continue lecturing Erica for slacking off on her training.

No one else seemed to have noticed their little slip, the moment where time had stopped for just an instant, the moment Stiles’ heart broke a little more inside.

And yet, throughout the entire meeting, as Derek spoke on and on about an Alpha pack that was on its way and keeping safe and not wandering alone anywhere, Stiles couldn’t look up, couldn’t bear to look in his face again and see the pain there that so closely mirrored his own.

And so he stayed silent, barely registering anything that was said, staring at the cracked and dusty floorboards of the Hale house and wondering how his heart could ever have betrayed him like this and cause him so much pain.

Then, at long last, the pack meeting was over and everyone was gradually trickling out the door, Scott throwing him a quizzical look over his shoulder as he walked out.

“You okay, man?” he asked. “You’ve been awfully quiet.”

“Hmm? Yeah. Just thinking,” said Stiles, giving Scott a weak smile that probably did nothing to reassure him. Luckily, Allison called him outside and he left without a second glance.

Stiles became suddenly aware that he was the last one to leave, aside from Derek, that is. Which was stupid, because this was Derek’s house, so of course he wouldn’t be leaving it anyway.

Shaking his head, he made for the door, not wanting to look back, not wanting to even say anything.

But then Derek’s hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Stiles, wait.”

There was an almost threatening note in his voice, a hint of a growl that caught Stiles off guard.

“Yeah?” he said, turning around reluctantly to face Derek.

Derek folded his arms, leaning against the wall, though his shoulders were tight with some unreadable emotion.

“Why the hell do you smell like sex?” he said aggressively. “You know, you’ve got a hell of a lot of nerve showing up here, _late,_ looking and smelling like you just got out of someone’s bed when you were supposed to come straight from school.”

“Oh, that,” stammered Stiles, blushing furiously. “I-it’s nothing, really, just Jackson, you know messing around…”

“Jackson!” flared Derek. “I’ll kill him!” He strode across the room, nostrils flaring and hands bunched into fists.

But it was Stiles’ turn to be angry. “And what do you care anyway, who I do and don’t do things with?! Since when was it any of _your_ business?! As I seem to recall, you told me it was for the best for me to go. And I did. You have no right to go around acting all jealous and possessive, especially when nothing even happened.”

They both stood glaring at each other, breathing hard, their anger stirring in the shadows around them and turning to something else, something more carnal and basic even than rage.

And then they were upon each other, mouths devouring and hands exploring, darkness shuddering all around them in a passionate embrace.

Because their hearts, no matter how hard they fought, would not be denied.

“You don’t know how badly I’ve wanted this,” muttered Derek into Stiles’ mouth as he reached down to unbuckle his pants.

“Likewise,” breathed Stiles, all anger gone in a sudden, crushing wave of _need._ He needed to be closer to Derek, to feel the touch of bared skin on skin, to be whole.

“Take these off,” growled Derek, pulling at Stiles pants now, impatiently nuzzling at his neck.

Stiles complied, shucking off his jeans and boxers and shrugging out of his shirt as Derek did the same.

And then his breath caught in his throat as he saw all of Derek before him, laid out like a feast for his eyes, perfect and beautiful. All chiseled perfection, his for the taking.

And those eyes, staring at him with a hunger that matched his own, as if Derek really found him just as beautiful, if not more so.

They kissed again; hard cocks rubbing against each other, Derek grinding his hips into Stiles’ in a way that made him shudder and moan.

“Mmmmm, oh Derek,” said Stiles, nearly overcome by the sensations. Stubble scratching against his face, teeth clashing against teeth, tongue on tongue, and skin on skin. Perfection.

They melded together, Derek nipping his way down Stiles’ neck and stomach, leaving a trail of reddening marks.

And then Stiles’ cock was engulfed in wet heat and he gasped, almost cumming right then and there, because really, it was too much, the sight of Derek’s lips wrapped around him, eyes dancing playfully as he dove down.

“Oh, Derek, please, I n-need you,” he said, breath catching. “I need you inside me.”

Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise and then groaned throatily, making vibrations shiver through his cock.

“Oh, fuck, Stiles. Do you have any idea how hot it is to hear you say that?” said Derek, lifting off his cock. He picked Stiles up and turned him over easily, spreading his legs and groaning again. “So hot,” he whispered.

Then he dove in, tongue licking at Stiles’ most private and intimate place, making him moan so loud his whole body shook.

“Mmmmm, Derek, I need more,” he begged shamelessly and was rewarded with a finger, then two, then three.

And when he could barely hold himself back from the shivering climax of orgasm, Derek entered him, sliding all the way in and stretching him in ways he couldn’t even begin to imagine.

Stars shot across his vision as Derek’s cock hit something deep inside him and he came, forcefully, helplessly, nearly sobbing at the intensity of it, Derek’s orgasm following close after, filling him, marking him forever.

And he knew, that whatever happened now, whatever came next, the darkness had won, had claimed him, now and forevermore, as Derek’s and Derek’s alone.


End file.
